Ashes, Ashes We all fall down
by Inksteria
Summary: Roy and Ed are reunited after seven years, what has changed, and will they get a shot at doing something right? Rated M for violence, language and possibly sexual situations. Roy/Ed
1. Prologue

Prologue

At first, there was darkness. Not the stifling closed darkness of a room, but the breathy open darkness of a cold winters night. It was the darkness that surrounds the sleeping bark of a wintered willow, the darkness that encases the fury of a dove gray rain cloud. The darkness where misted breath was bright and stark. And then in a flash of gold like the first spring sunlight through the ice of a frozen river, there was the ochre velvet softness of golden hair, a veritable halo for honeyed skin and amber irises.

A soft glow arose, a corona. Never a halo. He was not an angel, not a demon, no, not even a boy. A man, whose core was wrought in the fire of the sun, quenched in the iced loneliness of the moon. Man, made of sins and repentance. Man, unbloomed. Man, grown as big and tall as an oak. Fine dark skin, scarred and altogether too soft for such a child of the wilderness, stretched across fine lean muscles. Carved soft and strong like a Xerxesian statue. Classical conformational perfection. A broad strong jaw, clenched in determination, straight brows furrowed in concentration over fired eyes, high broad cheek bones, dusted with soft blonde hairs. All atop a a broad shouldered and thin hipped form, legs lean and strong, long and muscled. A study in human paragon. Regret rose in flames, burning like the Inferno.

Skin bubbling off, screaming tearing agony, no longer the commodious wintry forest. Now, the white hot searing pain of all sins unpaid for, of hanging like macabre jewelry from a cross. Tears and torment, rising in the mind like bile to the throat.

Terror-stricken red eyes, puffy from sobbing, crying for mercy. The horror never lost in dark, empty eyes. A child curled protectively against the stairs, white hair gray brown from sand, skinny from undernourishment. An order. An order.

An order.

A snap.

Inferno.

Always an Inferno, the stench of only the ashes remains. Dog tags clinking in the recoil of the blast. A reminder. Once a dog, always a dog. A dog, a dog, a dog. The hounds of hell at heel. Nipping for a taste, a taste of murderer, taste of evil, taste of patriotism. Barking, howling rage. The sound of snap bombs, snarl, growl, earth shaking rumble.

Never escape, can't escape, fire burning, ash choking in tarred lungs, smothered in the remains of the recoil, eyes bleak, dead as that which had just been snuffed from the land like so much smoke. Heart pounding, heart breaking, heart sickening. Hands shaking, eyes rolling back.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.


	2. Chapter 1

I do not own any rights to Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, That being said I hope you enjoy reading this!

Chapter one

Fuhrer Mustang started violently out of sleep, sweat freezing his body. His sheets were hopelessly tangled around his legs, his pillows thrown on the ground. He shuddered in disgust and ran his hand up his face and through his hair. Nights like these were why he never brought anyone home back in the old days. The guilt that overwhelmed him every night, of red eyes begging. But even as he thought that, he knew it wasn't entirely true. He remembered a time when flings were just flings, casual meetings. Almost a business interaction, emotions never truly tied. That had all started changing when... Well when the local genius became a man.

He'd done his best to eradicate those feelings, thinking, knowing they where inappropriate. Fraternization was generally frowned upon, especially within a same sex setting in the Amestrian military. As well he was nearly sixteen years older than the golden child. He knew everything changed the day Edward went through the gate and came back with Alphonse and his own true blue flesh arm in tow. He had been fire and blood and victory, the taste of copper in his mouth.

Roy had been promoted many a rank after that day, after having lost a great amount of the upper echelon in a so called 'Spring Cleaning' lead by the now retired Fuhrer Grumman. And Ed... well, he had served his time, achieved his goal and he had simply been done. A week afterward he had come into Roy's personal office, a letter of resignation and a silver watch held in both, blessed, flesh hands.

" _General... It's been one hell of a journey, hasn't it?" Edwards eyes were filled with emotion, not the passionate fire of youth, but the wise flickering flame of the scholars reading candle, soft and warm._

" _Yes... And I suppose it's over now, am I right Edward?" the pain that overwhelmed him in that moment taking him by surprise._

 _Edward's eyes sparked at his name falling from Mustangs lips like honey from the hive. A smile graced his lips, serene and open, a new side of Ed that had rarely ever been seen._

" _Yes sir, I've done what I set out to do. And I've made my peace. I'd like to see the world again, but not from a soldiers view... And I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for helping me." Edward softly slid watch and letter across the wide desk, a last open meeting of their eyes, that warmth still pulsing, and turned to leave._

" _Call me Roy." Ed's head turned ever so slightly as he opened the door, broad shoulders squared to the new world waiting for him, and he swear that in that last moment, Roy had seen one last bittersweet smiled on his lips._

Roy would always regret having let that moment slip through his fingers, seven years later, it was another regret to add to his roster. But really, who was he to complain about this anyway?

He was Roy Mustang, Fuhrer of peace, youngest Fuhrer in the relatively short history of Amestris. The man who had ushered in a new era of accord. He had bridged the faulty gaps between Creta and Xing, he had come to new and improved trade agreements with Aerugo, and he had successfully incurred a full ceasefire on both sides of the border war between Amestris and Drachma. He had created many new jobs, improving the economy. He had fixed the train rails, he had raised the bar of police training, he'd done his best to make Amestris safe. Safe, and peaceful.

But to this day, his dreams still haunted him in all their wrath. Reminding of every sin he ever committed, of every wrongdoing. Of every unjust snap of his fingers. Of his one chance to maybe be with the one person who could understand that no matter how much you atone for your past it will haunt you.

On mornings like this, when the sun was blackened out by thundering clouds and heavy with the promise of icy rain, he still looked in the mirror and saw a murderer. And yet today, Roy Mustang, with all his willpower he slid out of his bed, sweat cooling like ice on his chest, and he forced himself to walk the short distance to the bathroom.

And he confronted himself in the mirror. His eyes haunted and marked darkly underneath. He sighed looking down to find his toothbrush in its convenient cup, and when he looked back up, mouth covered in foam, for a moment he swear he saw glittering sun warmed amber eyes twinkling in the air next to his cheek. His hand floated up to his cheek, only to brush against empty air. Eyes pained, he spit into the sink and washed out his mouth, he was about to change into his suit when he turned back to the bathroom, and turned the water on near scalding and he took a shower, washing every inch of himself, just to feel clean again.

After he'd availed himself of the sweaty remnants of his dream he stepped out, toweling his hair, he dressed in his military blues and he walked down the long staircase from his room at the top of the Fuhrers mansion to the car waiting below.

"Good morning, Sierra, how are you this morning?" he inquired politely to the petite young blonde cousin of Riza Hawkeye's, who was currently manning the wheel.

"Good morning Fuhrer sir!" she answered enthusiastically from the front seat, hand snapping up into a sharp salute. "I'm doing well, sir. Thank you for asking, and how are you?"

Most people would have found this answer to be... out of line at best. But Roy had a deep fondness for his young chauffeur, and didn't mind at all.

"I'm well dear, let's get going. And I don't suppose you'd mind stopping at that nice cafe I enjoy so much on the way? I still haven't gotten the heart to tell my chef that while his duck a l'orange is the best in the world, his breakfast tastes like watery potato slime." He smiled as best he could at her, watching as his personal escort mounted the bikes behind him, knowing they hated it when he sent them in to merely fetch a bagel and coffee.

"Sir yes sir!" She turned the key and the car shuddered to life. And they, followed and surrounded by a motorcade of six, rolled out down a long the impressively and uselessly long drive up to the mansion.

It took them five minutes to get to the cafe, and 8 minutes to get to Central Command. Roy watched through the window, too distracted by his own thoughts to continue making small talk with his personable driver, flashbacks of fire and gold filling his vision.

When they reached the front drive of the Command building one of his motorcade opened his door, and Roy stepped out, finding himself with a very capable Riza Hawkeye at his side. Riza smiled and made a small gesture of recognition to her baby cousin, and turned to Roy as Jean Havoc filled in on the other side of Roy. "Sir," she saluted sharply, Jean sloppily copying her while he used the motion to insert an unlit cigarette into his mouth.

"You have a meeting with the Drachman tsarevitch today, to discuss those new trade proposals, afterwards you have a meeting with the generals to discuss the peace on the border, as well as a few... well a lot of property damage reports to review from a few... over enthusiastic State Alchemists."

Roy sighed and sipped his coffee as Hawkeye read through his plans for the day and all three walked up the steps and enter through the front doors, immediately causing everyone to stop and salute.

"General Hawkeye, it's only six in the morning I don't suppose you could have waited until I finished my coffee before you read my entire schedule?" He waved down the salutes lazily, Liutenant General Havoc chuckled off to his right.

"Sir, I find you most impressionable early in the morning. You're less resistant to suggestions." Riza deadpanned.

"I doubt he's ever less resistant, I believe it's more like... unwilling to strain himself doing anything about it." Jean informed them both.

"You two are lucky we're friends, because if you were only my subordinates I would have stripped you of rank by now." An empty threat and a sip of coffee.

They entered the Fuhrers office, and Roy excused Hawkeye and Havoc to their duties, he greeted his secretary and Major Generals and Fuery and Breda. He entered his office even as he heard the rustle of Breda's presumably dirty magazine.


End file.
